Once In A Blue Moon
by Moonbugg
Summary: Harry takes a wrong turning on his way back to the common room, finding himself somewhere ... unexpected ... with the result that his life is, quite literally, turned around.
1. The House Of Riddles

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Disclaimer: I could say that all the characters mentioned were mine. But I'd be lying. They all belong to JKRowling.

'All right, everybody out now, the library's closing,' came Madam Pince's voice, echoing through the library.

Harry sighed deeply and stood up. He still hadn't finished that essay on Coughing Concoctions for Snape, or for McGonagall on Long Distance Switching Spells. He could do them over the weekend but there was a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow and a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin on Sunday.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Harry walked out of the library. As Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team it was his job to find new players and work out the team strategies, but he needed the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow to unwind. He had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore had made him Captain to take his mind off ... no, he mustn't think about that.

He was so busy thinking, he wasn't paying much attention to where he was going, and the next time he looked up he was in a corridor he didn't recognise. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was on the fourth floor.

He looked out of the window to try and see the lake to get his bearings. There was no moon, and the grounds were pitch black, but the lake definitely wasn't there.

Harry walked along the corridor, noting the tapestry of a goblin riot on his left. But when he reached the far end, there didn't seem to be any way out. Another dead end.

Sighing with frustration, Harry opened a door on the right, hoping it would lead onto another corridor. He was in luck. It was a very narrow corridor, and there were no lights.

'If only I had the Marauder's Map,' thought Harry.

Well, one thing was for sure; the passage didn't lead _out_ of Hogwarts; Harry knew where all of those were.

'Let's just hope it comes out somewhere I know,' he thought.

He stepped into the passage and closed the door behind him. It was now pitch black.

'_Lumos!_' Harry muttered.

The light from his wand didn't show him much, just a bit of wall to either side of him. He started walking.

After about two hundred steps, he began to wonder how long this passage was. It hadn't changed at all, and he couldn't even be sure he was moving forwards.

But it was so peaceful in there. He stopped walking and slumped against the wall.

Ever since last June, Harry couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted to have human company or not. All he did know was that he wanted his godfather back. Sirius had fallen through the veil in the department of Mysteries and everyone said he couldn't come back. Even Dumbledore, and Dumbledore knew everything. Although Harry would never tell anyone, he missed Sirius desperately. Remus Lupin just wasn't the same. If only Harry could have just a little more time with Sirius - get to know him better; hell, even talk about his parents more with him.

'Stop it, Harry, just stop it,' he said to himself, as he felt the corners of his eyes pricking. 'This won't help matters.'

Wearily, he stood up straight and started back down the dark passage, but he couldn't stop thinking of Sirius and his parents.

'Ouch!'

He seemed to be at the end of the tunnel. A dark wooden door was positioned across the passageway. Harry twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

'Woah!'

He definitely wasn't expecting this. He had stepped into a bedroom, nothing like any of the dormitories in Hogwarts. In fact, it looked extremely like a Muggle bedroom, and when Harry looked out of the windows he saw that the mountains that usually surrounded Hogwarts had gone. In their place was a view of a large garden surrounded by tall trees.

This garden alerted Harry to the fact that he was still in a wizard's house. At either end were tall posts with hoops on the top, although, Harry noticed, they weren't as tall as real Quidditch goal posts.

Harry turned back to the bedroom. When he looked closer, he could see that this wasn't entirely normal, either. Above the bed was a large, moving poster of the Montrose Magpies, another Quidditch team; an empty cage was on the desk, strewn with what Harry recognised as owl treats, and at the foot of the bed was a trunk identical to Harry's school one.

Intrigued, Harry moved out onto the landing. He couldn't hear anyone in the house, but he moved quietly all the same. He tiptoed to the top of the stairs and peered down into the hall. There wasn't anyone there. Thinking that he wouldn't like to be caught lurking at the top of someone's stairs, Harry climbed down and stood in the hall. The front door was directly in front of him. To his left was an open door, and Harry could see a large living room. The hall stretched round a corner on his right. He followed it round, noting a bathroom, drawing room and study. For some reason, the house felt familiar, as if Harry had been in it before, although that was impossible. The only wizard houses Harry had ever been to were the Burrow and 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry mentally kicked himself; '_Don't_ think of that!'

At the far end of the hall was one more door. As Harry moved closer to the door, he could hear a low voice and someone sniffing, sounding like they were trying not to cry.

Harry moved closer. He could just hear the person speaking now.

'It'll be all right, love,' it said. 'We knew ... we knew it could have happened ... it's terrible ... but - he fought well -' The voice cracked.

The voice stirred something in Harry's memory ... It seemed to be talking about someone who had died, and recently by the sound of it.

Harry moved so he could see more of the room beyond the door. It was a kitchen. The cooker, sideboards and sink were at one end, and at the other was a large table.

The owner of the voice was sat at the table, with his back to Harry. Next to him sat a woman, huddled against him. She seemed to be the one trying not to cry.

Suddenly, Harry heard the front door slam, and footsteps came hurrying towards the kitchen. Terrified of being caught, Harry backed into the closest door to him - the study. He disappeared inside and shut the door just as the new arrival walked past.

'I came as soon as I could,' said the new person. 'God, I'm so sorry ...'

There was something about that voice too ...

The woman said something Harry couldn't hear.

'Dumbledore told me,' said the new man. 'I - I couldn't believe it.'

'Neither can we,' said the first voice heavily. 'I still expect him to come marching through that door and -' He broke off.

After a slight pause, the new person spoke, seemingly to break the heavy silence.

'Have you got visitors? It's just I thought I saw your study door close as I walked past.'

Harry's heart missed a beat. Three pairs of footsteps were approaching the study door. Desperately, Harry looked for a hiding place.

But before he could move, the door sprung open.

__

'HARRY!'


	2. Erm hi?

James and Lily Potter and Sirius Black were looking down at him.

The two groups of people stared at each other for a moment in silence.

Lily was the first to break it. She tore herself away from James and Sirius and stumbled towards Harry, hugging him like she hadn't seen him in years.

'How did you ... Where is ... Oh, _Harry_!'

Harry was incapable of speaking as Lily led him into the kitchen, followed by James and Sirius and sat him down at the table. Sirius looked the same as Harry remembered him, only his hair was fuller, his hair was short and clean and he didn't have that empty look in his eyes that he had acquired from Azkaban.

But James and Lily ... They looked older. Harry had only ever seen photos of them but they definitely looked older; by at least fifteen years. But his parents weren't even meant to be alive ...

Harry noticed the three adults watching him; all, apparently, waiting for an explanation. Lily had tears in her eyes as she watched him expectantly.

'Erm ... hi?' he tried, not quite knowing what they wanted him to say. And, after all, it was only Sirius he was on speaking terms with.

It wasn't what they were waiting for. Sirius exploded.

'You've let everyone think for the last twenty-four hours that you were dead, worrying your mother and father and myself sick, and all you can say by way of explanation is, 'Erm, hi?" -!'

Harry let this outburst wash over him as he sat silent, trying to figure things out. Half an hour ago he had been inside Hogwarts, an orphan with no godfather, but now Sirius was sitting in front of him, in a house that was seemingly nowhere near Hogwarts, and demanding an explanation for why Harry himself wasn't dead. It was very confusing.

'I - I didn't die,' he said feebly.

'Surprising, isn't it? We gathered that,' said Sirius sarcastically.

'But ... _you_ did,' said Harry, more to himself than the adults grouped around him. 'All of you died. So how come ... Unless ...' His brain was starting to work faster again, recovering from the shock. Unless he _had_ died and his parents were here because he was in an afterlife or something.

'Unless what, Harry?' asked Lily softly, never taking her eyes off her son.

Her voice brought Harry to his senses. He pinched himself hard, and it hurt. Not a dream. He was perfectly willing to rule out death, as well.

So how did we get to be here, then? his mind asked. The cupboard! He had to see if he could get back through the cupboard! He leapt up from his chair, startling the adults.

'I want to show you something,' he said breathlessly. 'It'll explain everything.'

He shot out of the room, only halting to check if they were following him. He took the stairs two at a time, and ran into the room that he first arrived in. He pulled the cupboard door open slowly, hoping to see the cupboard door at the back. At least that would explain _something_.

His parents and Sirius reached the bedroom as he opened the cupboard. Harry had his eyes closed, hoping to see the door. He reached into the cupboard and parted the clothes slowly. He opened his eyes ...

The door was still there. The dark wood and heavy handle weren't figments of his imagination. His face broke into a smile and he turned to face the adults.

'There,' he said. 'That's where I came from. I'm not -'

'What do you mean, that's where you came from, Harry?' said James, speaking to his son for the first time. 'The cupboard?'

The three of them looked at each other. It was obvious what was going through their minds; concussion, or something worse. His mind might have been severely damaged from the spell that hit him.

Harry frowned at them. He glanced at the door set back in the cupboard. It was clearly visible through the clothes hanging over it. Something dawned on Harry. _They couldn't see it._

'Can't you see it?' he stammered. 'That door -'

The adults stared at him, then James moved forwards and looked inside the cupboard.

'I can't see any door,' he confirmed.

Harry's eyes widened.

'I'm not imagining it!' he said desperately. 'Look!' He pushed past James and stepped into the cupboard. He took hold of the large handle set into the left side of the door; it felt cool to the touch. This more than anything reassured him. He twisted the handle and heaved the door open. It swung round and the dark mouth of the corridor appeared, waiting for him to step inside.

Once more Harry turned to his waiting parents.

James was still stood to the side, watching him. Sirius and Lily were stood where he had left them, and all of them had a worried look on their face. Lily was shaking her head.

'I suppose you'll be telling us you've just pulled the door open, and there's a passage behind it,' said Sirius.

Harry beamed at his godfather.

'Yes! I came through that passage from Hogwarts. I'm not the Harry you know. In my world, none of you are alive, and I've never even spoken to my parents.'

He knew it sounded harsh, but he had to make them understand. All three of them looked startled now.

'None of us can see this passage, Harry,' said his mother. 'It's quite difficult to believe you.'

Harry looked at her for a long moment. Suddenly deciding what he had to do, he strode back into the cupboard. He reached for James's hand as he passed. He didn't know if he would be able to come back into this world again if he returned to the black corridor, and he wanted some anchorage.

Taking a deep breath he stepped into the cool of the passage. He felt suddenly calm again. He turned and saw that his arm was still inside the cupboard, and his hand was still clinging to his father's. James, Lily and Sirius all looked shocked, and Harry could see why. If they really _couldn't_ see the door or the passage, it must look really strange for him to have disappeared into the wall and left his arm behind.

James gave Harry's arm a tug, and he stepped out of the shadows of the corridor into the bright bedroom.

'When I was at Hogwarts, I just stepped into that corridor, not knowing where it would take me,' Harry explained. 'I never expected it to lead me out of school; I know all those passages, and I doubt whether you lot found it when you were at school. It doesn't show on the Marauder's Map for sure -'

This stirred a reaction from both James and Sirius. James gasped and Sirius jumped and they stared at each other.

'How do you know about that?' demanded James, the first to recover.

Harry felt he had struck gold.

'The Weasley twins gave it to me in my third year - and Lupin said it had been confiscated, presumably while you were still at school. You never told the-me-you-know about it, did you? How else would I know? I'm telling the truth!' he finished triumphantly.

One by one, Lily, James and Sirius nodded their heads.

Harry suddenly felt exhausted. All that effort to make them understand ...

'Can we talk about this in the morning?' he pleaded. 'I'm shattered.'

Once they had shown him round his room - 'This feels really strange!' commented James - Harry pulled the curtains and got into his new bed.

As he lay waiting for sleep to come, he saw the Quidditch posters plastered over the walls. Quidditch! He had a match on Sunday! He supposed that time in this world moved at the same speed as that in his own world, although it must be three or four months behind, as it seemed to be summer here, when he had left Hogwarts in November. Which meant that he had just over twenty-four hours to decide what he was going to do. He didn't want to lose Sirius and James and Lily just when he'd found them once more ...

xxx

_Disclaimer: Would that I own'd these characters. It is my deepest regret that I don't._

Ciao! I thought I'd leave my disclaimer till the end, so it didn't destroy the dramatic effect!!!

Anyway, thanks to EVERYONE who has reviewed my story so far;  
Sincerity Inkwell - I accidentally deleted your review while I was getting used to the system! It was nothing personal, honest!  
The Reader of Books - I thought it was a good cliffhanger!!  
Padfoot1987 - heehee! Thanks for forgiving me!  
desipoplover13 - I UPDATEDUPDATEDUPDATED!  
TekvahAriel - There was a reason behind my madness! They HAD to shout 'Harry!'  
Loki Mischeif-Maker - Is IC In Character? I wasn't sure ... But thanks loads, anyway!  
And I suppose I should say thanks to Alice ... if I have to ... :-S

If you haven't already, go visit the Daily Prophet, Lonely Hearts by Padfoot, Prongs and Moony. It's a lot easier to read than this, and it IS funny, I promise! (If you didn't already know, I am Moony, sub-author of the Lonely Hearts!)


	3. This Is MY life

Disclaimer: I believe Sirius Black is alive. I cannot be JKRowling if I believe this, because it was she who 'killed' him. ('Killed' in inverted commas because he is not dead.) It follows that, if I am not JKRowling, then these characters aren't mine.

* * *

When Harry woke in the morning, he didn't know where he was. His bed was like the one at the Dursley's, but the bedroom was nothing like it, and he definitely wasn't in Hogwarts. But unlike other times when he woke up not knowing where he was, this time he felt contented, not panicked.

He lay back, trying to remember, the sun already streaming through his curtains.

'James! Is he up yet?' a voice called from downstairs.

Home! He was at home! He threw off the covers and jumped out of bed just as the bedroom door opened. An almost perfect replica of Harry's own head appeared around the corner.

'He's up!' shouted James, grinning at Harry. 'Your mum's got breakfast on the table -'

'I'll be right down,' said Harry.

As James's head retreated, Harry looked round the room and realised he had nothing to wear. Although they were technically his, he didn't feel comfortable wearing the other Harry's clothes and he wasn't sure if he _should_ wear them.

He spied the robes he was wearing yesterday draped over a chair back. For safety, he decide to wear them. He pulled them over his head and ran downstairs.

Delicious smells of bacon and eggs were coming from the kitchen. Lily was stood at the cooker and James and Sirius were sat at the table. They all turned round when Harry walked in.

'You're up early!' joked Sirius. 'It's one o' clock!'

Lily gave him a Look. 'Ignore him, Harry, and sit down. These're nearly ready.'

Harry made his way to the table and sat down opposite James.

'Sleep well?' asked his father.

'Surprisingly well, actually,' said Harry. He didn't mention the happenings of yesterday; no one else had, and he didn't want to bring up the subject.

After they had all eaten breakfast - which had disappeared tremendously fast - the four were left, once again, sat at an empty table. Sirius leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

'Now,' he said, 'explanations. How did you come across that door?'

All three of them were looking at him, so he had no choice but to tell them.

'I was just going back to the Common Room from the library, but I must've taken a wrong turning somewhere; I was a bit preoccupied with the match on Sunday -'

'Match?' interrupted James, interested.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'They made me Captain of the Gryffindor team in the summer. Probably to distract me from ...' He kicked himself. 'Well, anyway, I was thinking about the match and I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going and must have gone wrong somewhere. I went down one corridor, but it was a dead end. I opened a door at the end and there was a corridor behind it, so I walked along it and ... well, the rest you know.'

There was a silence. Until -

'They made you Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team?' said James incredulously.

'Prongs!' said Sirius, exasperated. 'Can't you concentrate for one minute?'

'Yes,' replied James. 'But it's a big thing for a Potter to become Captain! This calls for a celebration!'

Lily placed a calming hand on her husband's arm.

'Later, James,' she said quietly. 'The fact that we have a son is a big thing, too.'

James relaxed, but Harry could see the pride shining out of his face. He was sure there was a hint from Lily and Sirius, too ...

'When did you leave Hogwarts, Harry?' asked Lily.

Harry was confused. 'Last night ...?'

'No, the date.'

'Oh ...' The first match of the season was the sixteenth ... 'The fourteenth of November.'

Lily thought for a moment. 'It's the fourteenth of August here, so it seems that you've swapped dimensions _and _travelled back in time. 3 months exactly.'

'But why?' wondered Harry aloud.

'Haven't got a clue, kid,' said Sirius. 'But stuff that. There are still things that need explaining -'

'Like how come you're Quidditch Captain!' said James excitedly.

It was Sirius's turn to turn the Look on him.

'Okay, okay,' he said, rolling his eyes at his friend. 'Like what you meant last night when you said we were dead.'

Harry frowned at him, thinking hard. How was he going to put this this without sounding too harsh?

'Okay,' he said finally. 'But it's quite gruesome.'

So he told them his story.

'Sixteen years ago, Voldemort came to our house, searching for me to kill me. But my parents in my world' - that didn't sound too ungrateful, did it? - 'wouldn't let him. He killed both of them. My dad first, and then my mum, because she wouldn't let him have me.'

He found that talking about his own parents in the third person made it less personal and easier to talk about.

'But Dumbledore told me in my first year at school that because she had died to protect me, Voldemort couldn't hurt me. I was sent to live with her sister, Petunia -'

'Hey!' interrupted Sirius. 'What about me?'

'Sirius!' admonished Lily.

'My mum died to save me,' Harry told him. 'So any blood relative of hers would also hold the same protection. And you're no relation to me in that way.

'Anyway, two months ago, Dumbledore told me that Voldemort wanted to kill me because he had a rival. Some who would be the _only _one with the power to kill him. Someone born at the end of July, and whose parents had escaped him three times. That could have meant either me or Neville Longbottom.'

Harry was so busy concentrating on telling his story, he didn't notice the glances exchanged by the adults.

'He should have waited to see who looked more dangerous, me or Neville. But he didn't. He chose me; and the one he chose would be marked as his equal. That's why I have this scar.'

Harry pushed his fringe up. This time he saw the three adults jump.

'What?' he asked them.

'Nothing,' said James, after a moment's pause.

Harry looked disbelieving, but Lily distracted him.

'Things are slightly different here,' she told him.

'I can see that,' he answered. 'Well, that's my story. What changed to make it so different here? How come I grew up with the three of you?'

James answered first. 'We got a tip-off,' he said. 'We've been very lucky. Someone told us Voldemort was after us, so we went into hiding; same as you, it seems. Then we were told he knew where we were, and we managed to get out just in time. For some reason, and no one knows why, Voldemort backed off. Completely. Until recently, there has been no sign of him. People reckoned he migrated to another country until he could get over the shock of being thwarted. There was rather a lot of publicity over his failure. Those last few years were terrible; the whole community scared witless ...'

'Yeah, I know about that. In my world, the night he attacked us he vanished, but he came back a year and a half ago.'

'But what about me?' said Sirius again.

'What about you, Padfoot?' said James, shrugging and then grinning.

Harry gave a sad smile. 'In June, Voldemort finally revealed himself and tried to steal the prophecy that spoke of his equal. The Ministry didn't believe he was back, and he didn't want to risk showing himself and shatter his disguise, so he lured me into the Department of Mysteries instead, by planting a vision in my head the Sirius was in there, and going to be killed. But the real Sirius came to rescue me and Bellatrix -'

He could say no more. He had tried to prevent thinking this much about it since June, and the pain it still caused him was immense. Even thought Sirius was sitting here in front of him.

But he didn't need to say any more; they understood.

'Bellatrix?' growled Sirius, sounding much more like Harry's Sirius. 'My cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange?'

Harry nodded. Sirius's mouth tightened. 'I'll _kill_ her,' he hissed, jumping up from his chair.

'Sirius, be rational,' said Lily, holding onto his arm. 'This was your other self -'

Sirius was still fuming, but he lowered himself back into his seat.

The other three watched him expectantly, waiting for him to leap out of his chair again, and ready to stop him. He never did.

'Harry, there's still something I don't understand,' said James. 'Last night, you told us the Weasley twins gave you the Marauder's Map.'

'Yeah, Fred and George Weasley.'

They looked blank.

'You know, Molly and Arthur Weasley's sons? They gave it to me at school in my third year. Ron was fuming bec-'

He stopped at the sight of their faces.

'Harry,' said his mother. 'Arthur and Molly Weasley died twenty years ago.'

* * *

**I know, I know, another cliffhanger! But they're _fun!_ Well, this one wasn't, but y'know ...**

**Thank you SO much to EVERYONE who has reviewed so far!!**

**Ciao! Moony**


	4. New Best Friends

_Disclaimer: It'd flatter me no end if you mistook me for JKRowling. Nevertheless, I would have to disappoint you if you did, because I'm not._

* * *

Harry's heart missed a beat. 'They're ...?' 

His parents and godfather nodded.

'Rookwood and Avery killed them,' said James bitterly. 'Voldemort wanted the wizarding race rid of Muggleborns,' - he put his arm protectively around Lily - 'but if ever a family was a bunch of "blood traitors" it's the Weasleys,' he said, painfully echoing the words of Sirius from a year ago. 'Of course, normal people don't care. But Voldemort and his supporters were manic. Rookwood and Avery went to their house just six months after their son Percy was born. Killed Molly and Arthur. Luckily, Percy was at his nursery. He was living in a foster home until two years ago.'

But Harry had hardly take any of this in. No Mr and Mrs Weasley. No Fred and George. No Ginny.

'No Ron,' he croaked.

'Who's Ron?' asked Lily, knowing and dreading the answer.

'My ... best ...' Again emotion overtook him and he couldn't speak.

Lily pulled him close and rocked him like a three year old.

'I'm so sorry, Harry. No Ron. But it's not that bad; there is someone ...'

She looked over his shoulder at James and nodded. He got up and walked to the fireplace, taking down a small box on the mantelpiece. He threw a pinch of powder on the fire and stuck his head into the green flames. He must have whispered the name of the house, because Harry, even in his numbed state of mind, couldn't hear it.

Hermione. Only Hermione could make him feel slightly better. He hoped his dad had gone to fetch her. He didn't want to believe it. Ron couldn't be _dead_. No, Ron _couldn't never have been born_. Not Ron Weasley. There must be a mistake. There must be two Ron Weasleys. They thought he was talking about the other one! As he thought this, Harry struggled to loosen his mum's grip. He had to tell them!

'Quiet Harry,' whispered his mum.

He stopped struggling. Hermione was coming. It was okay, Hermione would tell them they were wrong. There was a noise by the fire, and Harry looked up to see James scrambling to his feet and brushing his knees down. He avoided looking at Harry, but nodded to his wife and said, 'They're coming.'

Lily turned Harry to face her.

'Look Harry, Ron might not be here, but you still have friends. In your world you have Ron, here you have -'

Right at that moment, the fire roared and out of the huge fireplace stepped three people. Harry wrenched himself out of his mother's grip and turned.

He had seen all three people in his own world. Two of them he had seen in St Mungo's Hospital.

It was the Longbottoms.

Frank, Alice and Neville stared silently at Harry for a few moments. Then Neville gave a yell and bounced across the room. He gave Harry a bear-hug and let him go, beaming all over his round face. Frank and Alice, slightly recovered, crossed the kitchen to pump his hand up and down and give him a motherly hug.

'What the hell happened to you?' exclaimed Neville.

They were not what Harry was expecting, and this was so totally unlike Neville that Harry was temporarily speechless. He was still recognisable as Neville of course, but he seemed taller, and more cheerful, not to mention amazingly more confident. This Neville didn't seem like he could be daunted by Snape or even his grandmother, and Harry couldn't imagine him having the kind of difficulty the Neville _he _knew had with a variety of spells. Nor did this Neville look like he would let a slimy git like Malfoy tease him, or, come to that, even be the object of one of Malfoy's jokes. This Neville just wouldn't stand for any of it.

Realising his godson was not about to make a speech, Sirius butted in.

'Let's not all stand here gawping. We need to celebrate!'

There was a loud crack and he was gone; seconds later he was back with an even louder crack and armfuls of food. Harry felt himself able to laugh and the tension was broken. Everyone was hugging each other, and none of the three newcomers were asking him why he was dead. Harry didn't feel up to repeating the whole thing, and hoped his parents might do it for him later instead.

Indeed, half an hour later they were sat on a rug in the garden - Sirius had insisted on what he called a 'barbie-crew' - happily munching on barbecued sausages and dragon ribs, when Neville spoke up.

'So are you going to tell me?' he queried.

'Neville,' moaned Alice. 'Don't listen to him, Harry.'

'Sorry,' said Neville earnestly, 'but I do think I have the right to know why my best friend suddenly turned up when all thought he was dead.'

Harry looked desperately at his dad. James seemed to understand, and answered for him.

'Look, Neville, it's been very hard for Harry. He doesn't understand the situation and nor do we. He's had to recount his whole life for us today and I don't think he's ready to tell it again.'

Harry shook his head and looked at the tartan pattern of the rug. He picked at a loose thread and said, 'You can tell them though, Dad.'

James looked at him questioningly, but Harry told him with a look that he didn't want to tell them although it needed explaining.

So James told the Longbottoms the whole story in almost the same words as Harry had earlier that day. He left the part of the prophecy till the end. He had decided that would need discussion.

The Longbottoms had difficulty believing Harry had arrived through a wardrobe. 'I think we'll have to enrol you on a crash course at St Mungo's,' said Neville, half-laughing.

The dreadful irony of those words, thought Harry with a shiver.

'The last thing I think we have to tell you concerns you, too,' said James. 'Harry said that in his world a prophecy was made, stating that the person with the power to kill Voldemort was born sixteen years ago at the end of July. And Voldemort will "mark him as his equal". Is that right, Harry?'

Harry nodded. He had to say it. He had to let them know.

'There are two people who fit the description,' he said slightly hoarsely. 'You and me, Neville. And the prophecy said only one of them can live - Voldemort or his equal.'

There was an awkward silence. Harry continued.

'I've been thinking about it, and I need to know about the day I died.'

Between the six of them, they told him that he and Neville had gone to Diagon Alley two days before. Voldemort had chosen that day to make his attack on the boys. Neville told him how he appeared out of nowhere and a double beam of green light had blasted out of Voldemort's wand, aiming for both boys' heads. Harry had dropped dead on the spot. Neville, protecting his eyes from the blinding flash, had thrown his hand to his face.

At this point, Harry looked at Neville's left hand. It was tightly wrapped in a bandage. Neville, catching his eye, slowly unwrapped the bandage and showed Harry his hand. Harry gasped. There, streaking it's way across Neville's palm, was a lightning-shaped scar, identical to Harry's own.

Neville looked like he was doing some serious thinking - a look that was completely unfamiliar to Harry. 'So ... when Voldemort attacked us ... he was trying to work out who was the biggest danger to him? Whoever died wouldn't be a threat and then he'd know who was the one he had to kill next? The stronger one?'

It seemed a good enough reason ... but ... there was something wrong ...

'No,' said Harry. 'He knew who was to be his equal. He always knew. It was always to be you, Neville, ever since Hallowe'en, fifteen years ago.'

The silence as everyone tried to work out this reason was only broken by Sirius munching on a stick of carrot.

'Sorry,' he mumbled and put the carrot back on his plate.

'The prophecy said that the equal was born in July, right? That could be either of us. But the second specification was that he was born to parents who had defied Voldemort three times. Up till the day that he tried to attack _me_ fifteen years ago, it could still have been either of us. It appears that in both worlds he decided to come after me. But in your world, _this_ world, we - well, the Harry you know and his parents - escaped before Voldemort reached us … them.'

Harry looked at his parents. 'This means that my parents have now escaped four times, not three.'

This was met with the longest silence Harry had ever experienced. Even the birds seemed to realise how important this was. A thousand thoughts were going through each individual head.

Finally Frank spoke. 'But I still don't understand. If Voldemort always knew our Neville was his equal, why did he try and kill you both the other day?'

'I don't know about that,' said Harry heavily. 'Maybe he didn't trust the prophecy. Wanted to make sure he really did get rid of any competition. And anyway, he never knew about this "equal" business. All he knew was that someone had the power to kill him. What _I_ don't understand is how Neville survived. In my world, I'm the only one who has ever survived that curse, and that was because of my mum ...'

'I can answer that one,' said Lily. 'At least, I think I can. It goes along the same principal as in your world.'

She turned to Frank.

'What about Algie? That holiday you went on, when Neville was two?'

Frank's eyes widened. 'Of course,' he breathed. Harry looked confused; it was obviously something for which he had to have lived in this world to understand.

'When Neville was two years old, we went away for a couple of months. Just to escape the horror of home, the wreck of lives Voldemort had left. A couple of Death Eaters turned up at my Uncle Algie's house, and tried to force our whereabouts out of him. To get their hands on Neville, I presume. But Algie didn't tell them. So the Death Eaters killed him instead, and left the Dark Mark hovering above the house, waiting for Aunt Enid when she came home.' A collective shiver ran through everyone.

'I suppose it could be said that he sacrificed himself for Neville?' asked Frank slowly.

Harry thought for a moment. 'That would probably be enough,' he said after a while. 'It worked for me, at any rate, and it certainly has done something for Neville, if it was that.'

Unsurprisingly, the cheery atmosphere that the barbecue had started with had long gone, and soon after, the Longbottoms left.

****

xxx

Later that evening, James decided he wanted to see if his new son had as good Quidditch talent as his real one, so the two of them shouldered their broomsticks and walked to the down-sized pitch in the garden. Harry still had a Nimbus 2000, because, he reasoned to himself, his parents had never died. Sirius had never gone to prison and therefore never escaped, the Dementors weren't at Hogwarts, and though his other self still had to play in that horrible weather against Hufflepuff, he hadn't fallen off and as a result, didn't need a new broom.

He started to explain all this to James, but realised he'd never told them about Sirius's spell in Azkaban, so he gave up.

James was impressed with Harry's flying: 'Seeing as you haven't been playing since you were little, you're fabulous!' He even added in an undertone that he wasn't any better or worse than his own Harry, but he immediately looked guilty at having said it, so Harry pretended he wasn't listening.

When Harry went to bed that night, exhausted from the day's explaining and analysing, he had plenty to think about. The knowledge that Ron didn't even exist here hadn't left his mind all day; it hung about him and threatened never to leave, but the change in Neville was interesting enough to distract him. Of course, it probably had to do with the fact that he hadn't been down-trodden by his grandmother all his life. And was Uncle Algie's sacrifice great enough to save Neville from Voldemort two days ago? There was something else niggling at the back of Harry's mind just as he dropped off, but he couldn't quite place it ... ... ... Azkaban?

* * *

I have a feeling that that is my longest chapter yet! For this story, at least …

I have to apologise, though. This chapter definitely isn't up to standard - first class incident of quantity not quality -and they have been severely deteriorating since the first chapter. Reason: the first chapter was written entirely off the top of my head - it was the most wonderful sensation, I just put the pen to paper and out it came! I literally changed about two words before I posted it! But I paid for that moment of inspiration by an attack of writer's block, and the last two chapters are evidence of that! Maybe I'll leave this story alone until I have another inspirational moment … Yes, plan. I have a few more ideas up my sleeve, so please don't give up on me!

Thanks, everyone who's reviewed so far! I love y'all!


	5. Duty Calls

_Disclaimer: Now, I love my readers, especially when they leave reviews, but I love them all anyway. But it's beyond me why I have to keep reminding them that I don't own any of these characters …_

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Throughout the night, Harry dreamt of the wizard prison on an island in the North Sea, so when he woke up, it was with a sense of foreboding. He wondered if the other Harry had ever encountered a Dementor. And if he had, what memories would he have been forced to relive? Harry's own tortures were centred around the deaths of his parents, but what would the other Harry, who'd had both of his parents and his godfather while he was growing up, see?

He didn't like to dwell too long on this; it seemed like invading someone else's life, so Harry sat up quickly and swung his legs out of his bed. He looked around his bedroom for his clothes, but saw that someone had removed his robes. He flinched. He didn't want to put on the other Harry's clothes, even now.

Instead, he padded downstairs in the pyjamas his parents had forced him to wear, and into the kitchen.

Only James was there this morning. He looked up as Harry walked in, and grinned.

'Sleep well?' he asked.

'Yes,' Harry replied, sitting down at the table opposite his father.

'Not too worried, then?'

Harry started. He didn't want his dad knowing he was having dreams about Azkaban; he might think Harry had a guilty conscience.

'Have you got a strong team, this time?' persisted James. 'Or are you just relying on what you've got?'

'Oh, Quidditch!' Harry breathed a sigh of relief. 'I'd forgotten about that.'

James looked at him in amazement. 'How can you forget about Quidditch?' he asked Harry incredulously.

'I've had rather a lot on my mind in the last few days, Dad,' Harry reminded him.

'Oh, right, so you have,' said James thoughtfully. 'I'd put that out of my mind. Just getting you back; so unexpected. I was dreadfully worried about your mother, you know. She's always been so strong, but she just crumbled. Finding out that she hadn't lost her son after all was the saving of her, I think.'

Harry looked at his knees. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't the son they had lost, and he wasn't sure they realised that. Not yet, anyway.

'So how _is_ the team?' asked James again, snapping suddenly out of his reverie.

Harry, glad for anything to distract his dad from something he didn't want to talk about again, seized the chance.

'It's not a bad one, but it's been better,' he said, thinking disloyally of Ron. 'Everyone's left over the last couple of years, so I'm having to start from scratch.'

'Surely there are enough good Quidditch players in Gryffindor? Unless – you aren't in -' James spoke uncertainly.

'Oh, no, I'm in Gryffindor,' Harry assured him. 'But I can't find many top-class players. Chasers aren't a problem, but Beaters and a Keeper …'

Just then the kitchen door opened and a Sirius that looked much more like Harry's own stood framed in the doorway. His short black hair was stuck up all over the place, resembling Harry and James', his face was pale and he had bags under his eyes. He squinted at the two of them, and staggered towards the table.

'Too much firewhiskey,' he moaned as he sat down, his head in his hands.

'Cheer up, Padfoot,' laughed James. 'We thought you'd be complaining, so Lily's just gone to get some Tipple Tonic for you.'

'You two are too good to me,' mumbled Sirius from the table-top. 'NO! You're not!' he yelped and clutched his head as a loud crack made Harry and James jump. Lily appeared in the centre of the kitchen, clutching her peace offering, but with a mischievous grin on her face.

Sirius's headache had abated and the four of them were eating breakfast when James brought up the Quidditch topic again.

'So what time does the match start? Ten o' clock, as always?'

Harry nodded, his mouth full.

Sirius looked up at the clock on the wall. 'You'd better be quick then, Harry,' he said, 'you've only got an hour left.'

Harry nearly choked on his cereal and only just managed not to spit it out.

'What?' he croaked feebly.

'It's nine o' clock' said Sirius. 'You'll be late.'

Harry looked at him in disbelief. 'I – I'm not even _going_.'

This time it was James' turn to choke on his cereal.

'Of _course_ you're going, Harry,' he said briskly. 'You're the Captain. And you told me yourself there's no one to take your place – you haven't got a replacement Seeker.'

'I don't care,' said Harry stoutly.

'Well, _I_ do,' replied James irritably. 'If I remember correctly this is your first match with you as Captain; that's not a good example for you to set your team. And I don't want anyone saying that my son was not a good Captain, because I know you are!'

'Why should you care?' Harry fired back. 'You're not even there, no one knows you. No one can tell any of you how badly we played. None of you. You're all _dead_!'

Even as he said this, he knew it was wrong. He tried to stop himself saying it, but his mouth had disconnected itself from his brain. He heard Lily gasp, and he leapt from his chair, knocking it over, and ran from the room.

He was about to start up the stairs, but remembered that the cupboard door was there. He didn't want it forcing its presence on him, so he turned and let himself out of the front door, slamming it behind him.

He ran around the side of the house where the garden was and into the trees that surrounded it. He didn't want any of them following him. They would just make him go back.

He decided on a suitable tree, and swung himself up into its branches. He could just see the house from here – he didn't want to get lost – but they wouldn't be able to see him. He settled himself on a broad branch and leaned back against the trunk, staring up through the leaves above his head.

How could Sirius have said that? he thought, angrily. Suggesting that I go back to Hogwarts. Although they probably all decided it together, he reflected bitterly. They all want me to go back, so I don't disgrace the family name. Well, I haven't got a family name back there. I _am_ the name. Not my dad, _me_.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down. It wasn't easy. He was horrified that he had said so bluntly that his own parents were dead, but even more horrified that they thought he could go back. What if the door shut while he was playing Quidditch? He would never see his parents again, and all for the sake of a game. He smiled slightly as he thought of what Ron would say if he heard Harry calling Quidditch a 'game'. After all they said to Hermione about it being so much more.

_A game, Harry? PLEASE don't tell me you said Quidditch is just a game. That's like Moaning Myrtle saying she just lives in her toilet because there's nowhere else! In the whole of Hogwarts, for goodness' sake!_

Harry laughed quietly.

'What are you laughing at?'

Harry jumped and looked down. Lily was stood at the foot of the tree looking up at him.

'Mum, I – didn't hear you,' he finished lamely.

He wanted to apologise – but how do you apologise for saying something that horrific?

'Are you coming down, or do I have to come up and join you?' she asked.

Harry shrugged but lowered himself down onto the bottom branch where he sat swinging his legs, staring at the ground.

'Harry, I want you to go back.'

Harry jerked his head up and looked his mother in the eyes. He saw she was being serious and closed his eyes, nodded.

'I understand,' he said miserably. 'I made my own bed as far as this is concerned. I shouldn't have said that, and I'm sorry. But I'm scared. I don't want to go back. What if I can't get back here? What if I can't come home?'

Lily laughed softly, and put her hands on her son's knees.

'Home, Harry?'

He looked up at her again, taking in her face, her eyes that were so similar to his that it felt like he was staring into a mirror. He saw the love for her son spilling out of them, felt it embracing him with its warmth, and thought how unfair it was. In one world, he had to suffer, in another his parents did. Why couldn't they be together?

'Yes, Mum, home.'

She smiled sadly. 'Your dad's right, you know, Harry. You can't leave your team. Your friends – Ron – they'll be worried about you. Only six people here know that you've come. The rest of our world thinks you're dead. You have to go back.'

'And – if I can't come back here?'

'At least you knew your parents, Harry. At least you got to say good bye.'

* * *

_Will Harry leave his parents? Who will win the match if he does? What will James do if he doesn't? And will Moonbugg actually update again any time soon? You'll have to wait for that next chapter to find out!_

_Well, would you look at that. One whole year! A year today since I last updated … Where has it gone! I mean, I knew it was a long while ago, but that's verging on the ridiculous …_

_And I'm really sorry to all my faithful old reviewers. Believe me, I didn't like leaving you like that, but I just ran out of inspiration. You'll be pleased to know I'm back on track somewhat now, so you just never know …_

_18th November 2005_


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